Nana, Erupted
In which I embarrass my future self
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
As we entered the restaurant, Eugenio looked at me with a smile on his face.
"You smell so good," he said getting a wiff of perfume.
There was romance in the air.
"Oh, haha! That's not me."
My heart sank with the thought that I will always smell vaguely like curdled breast milk. Sorry, babe.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment